


Imposition

by SpaceCadetGlow



Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, BDSM, Domination, F/M, Oral Sex, Pegging, Rule 63, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 14:36:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4670312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceCadetGlow/pseuds/SpaceCadetGlow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rule 63 Hooded Justice pegging (male) Captain Metropolis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imposition

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Watchmen kinkmeme, which exists in its current iteration here: http://watchmen-km.dreamwidth.org/287.html. If you enjoy this story, please leave a comment; feedback makes my day!

After a long night of patrolling, Nelson is just getting out of the shower when he hears Eddie's voice echoing through the men's locker room.

"You're not supposed to be in here."

"Who's going to stop me? You?" Nelson peeks around the corner of the shower stall and sees HJ standing there in a fresh costume with a leather bag slung over her shoulder. The hood obscures her face, but the sneer is evident in her posture and her voice. "Run along home, boy. I have some private business with Metropolis."

"Sure you do," Eddie mutters. "Make sure he takes another shower, I don't wanna smell the kraut on him tomorrow." HJ just laughs at his insult, a low chuckle that sends shivers down Nelson's spine. He grabs a towel for warmth and starts to dry himself. Eddie makes a point of taking his time to pack up his things, but goes on his way. HJ locks the door, and they are alone for the night.

"He was right about one thing," HJ says as she comes towards him with long strides. "You should have saved your shower for afterwards. You always make such a mess of yourself."

"And what about you?" Nelson steps out of the shower stall. He's all too aware of the difference between them, he with nothing but a towel around his waist and rumpled, wet hair, and _she_ , fully clothed and imposing, her costume stretched tightly over her muscles. She's the most incredible woman he's ever met.

"Maybe we'll have one together." 

He's only seen her with her hood off a couple of times, and she still won't tell him her real name, but he's learning her ways -- deciphering the wry tone that means she's amused, the low pitch of disdain, the thickening of her accent when she's aroused. Now, he can hear the smile in her voice, but it's impossible for him to relax completely around her, not when he's got a good idea of what's in that leather bag.

Of course, she can read him like a book. "Yes, I brought something for you. But you must be patient."

Nelson smiles nervously. "Let me get dressed then, we can go back to my apartment--"

In two steps she's closed the distance between them, stepping into the shower stall and steadying him so he doesn't slip as she pushes him against the cool tile wall. "No. _I'm_ not patient enough for that. I had to wait for hours tonight."

"You didn't seem distracted," he mumbles. It's true -- the percentage of criminals with intact noses and jaws was significantly decreased in just a few hours of patrol. But now he is the distracted one; her body is flush with his, the firm swell of her breasts leading into unforgiving muscles above and below. 

"That's because your cape blocked the nice view I might otherwise have had," she breathes, right next to his ear. Her breath warms his skin even through the wool fabric of her hood. Yes, he definitely knows what's in the bag. He says, "Sorry about that."

Her leather-clad hand slides from his shoulder to his chest, where she toys with his nipple until he gasps at the small jolt of pain. The other hand trails down his stomach to the towel slung around his hips, and suddenly he's completely bare before her, already feeling warmth pooling deep in his belly. His cock twitches as her fingers graze his hip; he blushes at the sound of approval she makes. 

Without thinking, Nelson drops to his knees, brushing his finger tips against the laces of her boots. He looks up at her, wordlessly asking her permission, and she gives it. It's soothing work, carefully undoing the laces with his face just inches from the strong pillar of her thigh. When he's done with her boots, the leggings are next. Reverently, he rolls the fabric down, his tongue and lips following over every inch of tan skin and every cruel, knotted scar.

As soon as he helps her step out of the leggings, he's burying his face between her legs, just breathing in her sharp, musky scent for a moment before he gladly goes to work with his tongue and fingers. His hand delves upward, finding the only soft part of her body, and she opens easily for him. It seemed to him that most women were like this all over -- pliant, soft. Even a tough woman like Sally. She could hold her own in a fight, there was no question about that, but he felt certain he could overpower her if he really had to. Not so with HJ. Every time he touches her like this, he's acutely aware that she's granting him a privilege, one that could be revoked at any time. It's that awareness of her strength and her power over him, something he thought only men could ever have, that makes her different.

His tongue flicks at her clit while his fingers work slowly inside her; the longer he strokes her, the wetter she gets, and he loves knowing that he's the one doing it to her. He knows what she has planned for him, but right now he almost wants to feel that warm wetness envelop him instead. He imagines both scenarios: first, HJ on top of him, holding him by the throat as she rides him hard, the way it feels to come inside of her. And second, the coolness of the tile wall against his skin, and the stretch of her strap-on in his ass, her breasts grazing his back. It fills him with a surge of lust, and he redoubles his efforts until her knees are trembling and she places a broad hand against the wall for support. 

A moan bursts from her lips, followed by the near-silence of clenched teeth as she rides out her orgasm, seizing around his fingers in wave after wave. His face is suddenly wet with her fluids, and he's so painfully close to coming too, that he bites at the fingers on his right hand so he can't reach down and stroke himself to completion. HJ's own hand cups him under the chin, tilting his face up for her inspection. Her thumb sweeps over his lips; he darts his tongue out to find the sharp taste of her come, and the soft leather of her glove. 

"What a good boy you are," she murmurs. He closes his eyes, leaning into her touch like a purring cat. "Now I want you to get yourself ready. Stand up and face the wall so I can see you."

She settles on one of the locker room benches and begins to unzip her bag, her eyes still trained on him. Nelson rises, relieving the ache (however satisfying, in its own way) in his knees, and presses himself against the damp tile. Carefully, he sucks on two fingers and reaches behind himself. He doesn't need to glance back at HJ to know that she's watching, but he does anyway. She's removed her gloves, the better to handle the various buckles and straps; he eyes her toy as he slips the first finger into himself, imagining how she's going to feel inside of him.

Knowing her eyes are fixed on him, he allows his own to flutter shut as he slides another finger in beside the first. Slowly, so slowly, he buries them inside himself and twists, stretching himself for her. A small gasp of pleasure, and suddenly she's behind him, breath hot against his ear even through the hood. 

"Putting on a show for me?" she says. He can feel her cock pressing against the cleft of his ass, already slick and ready for him, just as he is ready for her. Her strong body, naked except for her hood, brushes against his skin. It's too much for him to answer coherently, so he says nothing at all.  
Of course, that's not acceptable. "I'm talking to you, Metropolis," HJ hisses, her voice sharp as a knife-edge, fingers digging into his shoulder. She reaches up and tugs off her hood, then pushes his cheek against the wall and drags her tongue around the edge of his ear until he trembles. "Admit it, you like spreading yourself like a whore for my benefit as much as your own."

Sharp teeth nip at his ear. "I just want to please you," he manages.

He can barely see her face, but he can hear that she is, indeed, pleased. "I know."

And then she's pushing inside him, so big and thick that tears spring to his eyes as she stretches him wide. When she's completely in, he shudders and relaxes, the cool tile a stark contrast to the heat spreading through every part of his body. As soon as he's used to the feeling of her, she withdraws, making him feel each slow inch all the way to the blunt, wide head, before plunging back in. It's so much sensation, and it only grows as she increases her speed. 

Nelson presses into the wall, grinding his swollen cock against the slick tile, desperate for any friction, any friction at all. There's not enough to make a difference, and HJ scoffs at his effort. She seizes his hips and pulls him back against her, all but impaling him on her cock before moving again. 

So he thrusts his hips back in time with her motions, helping her find the place that sets off fireworks behind his eyes. It's good, _too_ good. The tears return, humiliating, but that just makes it better somehow. HJ's teeth sink into his skin at the crook of his neck, claiming him. Pleasure and pain, moans and sobs all meld together maddeningly, until he comes, shaking and whimpering, and sags back against HJ because suddenly his legs have turned to jelly.

She holds him up, and kisses his neck while his breathing slows. When he feels like himself again, normal, dependable Nelly, he turns to face her. She's not beautiful, but he loves to look at her, memorizing the broad angles of her cheeks, her chocolate brown eyes, her close-cropped hair. Every time he sees her face, he studies it this carefully, so he can imagine it all in the long weeks before he can see it again, just as he will imagine everything that transpired tonight, vividly, until she next approaches him.

He smiles at her. She only allows the corners of her mouth to twitch up, but her eyes are warm. She kisses him full on the mouth, a treat so rare that as he hastily moves to embrace her, his elbow hits the shower handle, sending a hot spray over them both. HJ raises her eyebrows for a moment, but goes on kissing him. Their hands roam over each others' bodies, making them clean.


End file.
